


Insomniacs And Bad Children

by John_Q_Sample



Category: Smile For Me (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:41:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22197997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/John_Q_Sample/pseuds/John_Q_Sample
Summary: It's not like Flower Kid meant to stay out past curfew.
Kudos: 32





	Insomniacs And Bad Children

Ever since the bizarre phone call I had with Dr. Habit about coming here, along with the email interview, I knew the Habitat would be a very weird place. I prepared myself for it, but I still underestimated how deep this place's weirdness would run. I notice new things every day.

Take the food situation. The only "food" you can get comes from the Lounge, according to the Habiticians, but I still haven't been able to get down there because apparently there's a secret knock you need to be allowed in. So secret that nobody knows it, except they all, somehow, know what it's like inside the building. What's weirder is that Habit is basically encouraging alcoholism, and I can't even get in there! I bet if I did, it wouldn't even be real food, probably just snacks and tons of alcohol. Not that I'd know from experience, but I've seen movies.

And the stairs, they've bothered me since I've come here. I mean, I can jump down them just fine (a fun little fact about me that _terrified_ my parents when I fell out of our apartment window at age six), but what about the others? I'm terrified someone will accidentally fall off and hurt themselves. Or even worse, purposely fall off to hurt themselves. You'd think a place that gathers unhappy people would think about that, right?

But nobody here is a professional therapist, psychiatrist, psychologist, guidance counselor, or anything even _close_ to...whatever you'd need to be to work at a wellness retreat. Not even any of the Habiticians I've met could meet those qualifications.

And I've never seen Dr. Habit in person. Only that...puppet that occasionally pops up in the morning PSAs.

Come to think of it, I haven't met _any_ of the workers here, except Ronbo and the guy who stands at the door of the Lounge and tells me to go away. Ronbo, at least, is very nice, and he finally opens up the Carnival for me after I help him move on from his break-up.

This allows me to enjoy even more of the strangeness of the Habitat.

With the Carnival now open, many people who have previously stayed in their Apartments are now there milling around and checking out the new sites. I introduce myself to them, or really just listen to them introduce themselves to me and then accept whatever nickname they come up with. And a few of them are already willing to talk about their problems with me. This is a good thing; I've decided that, although it angers Dr. Habit, I'd like to make it my mission to make as many people happy as possible. But not everyone is willing to talk to some flower kid they just met about all their problems, which I understand, but it still makes it difficult for them to help me.

I go to talk to a kid hanging around the corner of the Carnival, but I stop at the sight of...Martha?

Yes, I think that's Martha. I've seen the name thrown around a few times, on Habit's website and in posters, and I had always assumed it was one of the people working here, whom I hadn't met yet because of the absence of workers altogether. What I'm looking at now, though, is a giant grinning machine, with glimmering white teeth and bright red lips. And chimneys poking out of the top of her. The smile matches the one I saw on the posters, so I guess it must be her.

The kid standing near her introduces himself as Gerry and tries to sell me a treasure-finger that I definitely don't have the money for, though I do find it flattering that he thinks I might have seventy million bucks with me right now. After we strike a deal (the treasure-finder for free in exchange for a favor, which he'll come up with later when he needs something), Gerry does confirm that the red-lipped machine is the Martha that Habit was talking about before. Gerry doesn't have much to say her though, just that she works nights and that he happens to fancy her.

While I'm in the middle of thinking of how to gesticulate my next questions, the ambient tunes from the speakers switch to an anxiety-inducing lullaby-type score.

Almost curfew.

I look back, and most of the people have already left for the Apartments. Then I make eye contact with Gerry, who shrugs and walks out as well.

I'm about to follow him when a huge clatter causes me to jump. Hunched over in fright, I turn my head, and I spot Martha...shuddering? Before I can find a proper word to describe her movement, the chimneys start pumping up and down, spouting plumes of green smoke.

Despite knowing the awful dizziness that comes with staying up past curfew, I get closer to the machine to investigate. A puff of smoke goes right into my face, sending me keeling over in a coughing fit. I feel lightheaded as I try to push myself up.

Now I get it, though. I've never stayed up past curfew since the physical side effects concerned me too much to risk it, but now I know why it does that. How he enforces the strict beddy-time.

Beddy-time?

I take a deep breath, causing me to giggle. You just sucked up more of that gas, silly!

Since when do I use "silly" as an insult? Habit's getting to me!

Turning away, I make my way out of the Carnival. My feet are heavy and I am _sooo_ dizzy and I drag my shoes through the sand, which makes a funny noise.

I stumble forward and crash into a carnival attendant, who catches me and cries out, "You should be in bed, Silly Human! You need your sleep!"

I snort, not having the energy for a full laugh. The carnival attendant continues to complain how I'm a nasty Habitician who should be better at listening to their superiors. I stumble into the Courtyard.

Then I'm on the ground. Don't know how I got here. There's sand in my overalls. Footsteps get louder, someone coming to help me, I think it's the carnival attendant I had an altercation with earlier, except the hand reaching out for me is green and sharp.

I gasp and push myself away, landing roughly on my side and struggling to catch my breath from the mixture of the gas and my panic.

His eyes are red.

The dentist looms over me, a shadowy figure that shocks me to my core. I cry out, and the shadow dissipates, revealing a green man in scrubs. He gives me a lopsided smile with several gaps and then covers it with a mask. The room smells like mint and the chair I'm lying down on is uncomfortable, the material sticking to my legs.

In an all-too familiar voice, he tells me to smile, and he holds up a little mirror.

Mint turns to metal, and hot tears pour down my face. Tears that are currently rolling across my cheeks as I giggle uncontrollably.

My dentist. This "therapist" guy was my dentist.

How ridiculous.

Dr. Habit crouches next to me and smile, refusing to show his teeth. He smells like metal. Everything does, actually.

"You should be in bed, silly!" he chastises, shaking his head. Clicking his tongue, he adds, "Hasn't anyone taught you that you should follow the rules? And the rules are: get to bed, silly flower brat!"

I put my arms beneath me and try to push myself up. For a few terrifying moments, hilariously terrifying, I'm stuck. I'm able to move myself up to my elbows.

"Dentist," I try to say, "dentist!"

No sound comes out.

I laugh.

Dr. Habit laughs. I fall over and bury my head in my arms as I begin to weep. Habit continues to cackle.

"Oh, Flower Child, you are so Happy!"

I look up at him. I'm covered in sand. My vision is swimming, looking like he's wobbling over me, and I'm not sure if I'm still laughing.

Dr. Habit is not. "You should leave." His tone is no-nonsense and deep and scary. "There's only one Smile Doctor in the Habitat, and it's me."

I close my eyes.

"I missed ya last night, Partner," comes the familiar yeehaw twang of my cowboy bed. "Where'd ya go?"

I push myself up from bed and press a hand to my head. I imagine this must be what a hangover feels like, so frankly I'm not particularly excited to turn twenty-one.

A tune plays on the TV. I roll over onto my back and force myself up to a sitting position to view a title card, something painted with the words, "Dr. Habit's Bedtime Stories for Insomniacs and Bad Children" over a bright background.

What follows is a terrifying collection of messages typed atop a gloomy view of the staircase, and then the normal morning PSA like nothing happened.

I groan and fall back on my bed to sleep in.

**Author's Note:**

> pre-game i had a few theoriez as to wenn u meet dr. habit 4 the first thyme. but mostly i assumed that he'd be absent thru the whole game, like he waz leaving evry1 alone 2 prepare 4 the Big Event. still, i wondered if there waz a way u could meet him b4 that. soz that'z where this idea comez in.
> 
> also i just had the SILLIEST idea ever which is that dr. habit wuz flower kid's dentist wenn they were a kid!! (my version of flower kid is like...20ish so this would'v been a little Bit ago) i was thinking either flower kid recognizes them and is like "dentist who used to creep me out as a kid runz a wellness retreat now? sounds sus better check it out" or, as shown in this fic, flower kid doesn't realize it until they're actually @ the habitat
> 
> (also sorrey if habit doesnt sound v...habit-y; i tend to avoid spelling accents out phonetic-lee in writing, de-spite the way i like 2 type in casual settingz, soz i was trying 2 write his regular speech pattern relying mostly on syntax, word choice, and descriptions outside of the dialogue)
> 
> REVISION: i keep revising this lol. soz if u go back 2 reread this & find it complete-lee diff'rent...oopsie


End file.
